


Nothing You Can't Handle

by magicasen



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 1872, Marvel Secret Wars Battleworlds
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-21 23:08:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11954616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicasen/pseuds/magicasen
Summary: Tony Stark finds a reason to stay, for once.





	Nothing You Can't Handle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Takame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Takame/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Cap IM Tiny RB Round 2: Shellhead](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11439375) by [cap_ironman_event_mod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cap_ironman_event_mod/pseuds/cap_ironman_event_mod). 



> Happy birthday, Caz! Sorry for the lateness, but I hope you like it anyway!

Tony rapped his knuckles on the bar, and was rewarded with another bottle. The bartender hadn't commented on the impressive amount he'd gone through. Well, if the stranger in town couldn't pay, then there'd be a man to put to work, as Tony had foolishly taken pity on a mousy doctor and his shoddily-made cart earlier that day.

Too bad for the bartender and Tony, he had all the money in the world, but nothing else that made life worth living.

A town like this, train tracks laid down years ago and the only viable business ranching, a new face meant something, interest and more often, suspicion. But Tony had shown his colors quickly in the bar, and the towns people had quickly lost interest in the vagrant.

There was a chorus of calls over from the door, loud calls and greetings all around. Tony ducked his head. The gold glint of the star was unmistakable, even from the corner of his eye.

The sheriff raised a hand to the crowd, eyes scanning the room. Tony hunched over the bar. The man wasn't so much imposing, Tony figured, but he drew your eye. Carved out of charisma, that one, like the generals Tony had met a decade back. It wasn't so bad. Preferable to those who ruled their town via intimidation.

The back of Tony's neck prickled. There should be no one who recognized him, not in this place, and Tony would have remembered if he'd ever seen a face like that before. Yet it appeared he'd won the attention of the town sheriff already, and it was early yet.

Tony slammed his bottle down, motioning for another one, taking care to knock over the bottle on the table while he was at it. Better to shake off any suspicion now, and be written off quickly.

“I don't think I've seen a man drink like that since I left New York.”

A city boy. Something they had in common, and Tony took his time taking a swig of his bottle to stop himself from taking up the conversation. The man and the drink were already wearing on his impulse control.

The man waited for Tony to put his drink down, like he expected proper manners to get Tony to speak to him. Tony sat back, and belched loudly.

Somewhere, his tutor was weeping into his handkerchief.

The sheriff didn't even blink. “I heard you lent Banner a hand earlier. Fixed up the wheel on his cart. I wanted to thank you. The town needs our doctor's cart to be in good working order just as much has he does.”

“It was a heap of garbage,” Tony muttered, and realized his mistake when the sheriff cracked a smile.

“We haven't had anyone to go to for repairs the past few months. Folk have had to make do, and Banner's a doctor, not a smith.”

Tony had noticed the abandoned building. _Hammer Industries,_ with the door boarded up and somehow dustier than the rest of the town. 

“Already got my thanks,” Tony said, gesturing to the bottles surrounding him. “I don't need anything else, so you can mind your own business, sheriff.”

“Minding my own business isn't what I'm paid to do. And the name is Rogers.”

“Stark,” Tony replied on instinct.

Rogers held out his hand, and not only was he true to whatever justice he upheld, he was a stubborn bastard. Great. Tony took his hand, and knew what words he'd hear before Rogers opened his mouth.

“Timely's been looking for a man of your capabilities, Mister Stark.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Does it deserve me? The type of place where the man of law propositions strange men in the bar?””

The corner of Rogers's mouth quirked up, but he gave no other indication he'd heard Tony. “If you're worried about business, you don't need to be. Nothing lasts forever, not out here. We need someone to help maintain repairs, keep our horses in good shape, upkeep the weaponry.”

The bottle jumped, tipping over and spilling its contents all over the bar. Tony's knee smarted from where he'd banged the bottom of the bar.

“No.”

Rogers righted the bottle, frowning as he found a handkerchief to wipe the beer off his vest.

“Are you sure? We can work something out—”

“Get off my back,” Tony snapped. “You want someone to help you shoot people, look elsewhere.” His legs wobbled dangerously when he stood, but he was able to make it out the door without falling over.

 

He had said too much, Tony supposed, looking out into the distance. He couldn't bring himself to care. His personal stash of alcohol, that he tried not to tap into anywhere he could find a bar that'd take him, was empty on the ground beside him.

He didn't know what about this town did it to him. Even here, it was all about guns. Was there a single place where it didn't come back to that? The one time he'd tried, it turned out that the shopkeeper's son had picked the wrong side when civil war had broken out and perished in the Battle of New Bern, in 1862..

He stopped himself from leaning against the post. If he did that, he'd fall asleep, and then that Rogers really could get him jailed for public disturbance.

A shadow fell over him. Tony frowned at it, trying to begrudge it and the brief reprieve it brought him from the lantern light.

There was a sound of a throat clearing behind him, a politeness that didn't make up for things.

“Mister Stark.”

Tony lilted a bit to the side, blinking slowly.

“I'm sorry,” Rogers continued, haltingly, like he wasn't used to doing this. Not many people could afford to be. “I didn't mean to upset you.”

Tony couldn't stop himself, and laughed. Rogers tensed, until he realized Tony wasn't mocking him, and settled into puzzlement.

Tony himself couldn't answer what amused him so much. Maybe it was that some part of him liked seeing the sheriff made humble, or caught off-guard. He could tell it a rare occurrence, something to be coaxed out, and maybe he wanted to keep trying his luck.

Rogers cleared his throat. “To the point, before you leave and I don't see hide nor hair of you again in my life, I want to ask again, if you'd think about staying.”

Tony nearly upended the bottle into his mouth, catching only droplets that burned down his throat. He sighed when he set it back. “No, you don't want me. Don't do guns anymore.”

It was a rare man who took offense to guns, out here. Tony garnered a fair number of the women didn't, either.

“I can handle my own weapons,” Rogers said. “And so does my deputy. The folk of this town need nothing more than someone to repair the tools, and to keep their horses hooves in good health. Someone honest.”

Tony guffawed. He held out his bottle, a toast to irony.

A peaceful town, was it? Rogers tilted his head with a tentative smile, and Tony was in trouble now, wasn't he?

“Well, Wilson's mare _is_ a handful, but nothing you couldn't handle, I reckon,” Rogers said, and when had Tony spoken aloud?

“I'll see you tomorrow morning then, Mister Stark. I've made arrangements for you to stay in a room here tonight, and I'll be here to pick you up at dawn. We can take you to the old building, and I'll introduce you to the general store owner, help you get whatever new supplies you'll need in.” He jumped off the porch with a skip in his step, like a schoolboy. “I have to relieve my deputy from watch, but you'll get taken care of tonight.”

He'd nearly gone out of sight before Tony's mind broke through the haze.

“Wait!”

Rogers paused, but didn't look back.

“Why? Why me?”

“I've learned that instinct is a powerful thing.” Rogers looked over his shoulder, then, and offered Tony a smile to out-dazzle the stars. “And the name is Steve.”

 


End file.
